


The House of Bamboo Affair

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Art, F/M, Gen, Japan, Kendo, Ninja, Partnership, Spies & Secret Agents, Storms, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 17:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14698509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon and Illya are sent to Japan to accompany a rare and valuable piece of Japanese art, an heirloom belonging to the Tokugawa family. It was to be loaned to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York for a special exhibit on Japanese art of the Edo period.Of course where UNCLE agents go, trouble follows...(there's a subtle hint of a crossover, but I'm not going to give it away)  If you get it, please comment!





	1. Chapter 1

  


 

She was breathtaking; dressed in a silk embroidered red kimono, a wide grey sash wrapped around her waist and tied in a precise bow at her back. Silver combs graced her black hair, sparkling as she moved slowly across the room, bowing oh so elegantly to her American visitor.

 

“Mister Solo, welcome.”

“I’m honored Lady Michiko,"  Napoleon gave a formal bow in return.

 UNCLE had been tasked to accompany a rare and valuable piece of Japanese art, an heirloom belonging to the Tokugawa family. It was to be loaned to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York for a special exhibit on Japanese art of the  Edo period.

In 1853 Commodore Perry of the United States Navy sailed into Edo Bay with the intention of opening Japan to foreign trade. Through the threat of force of arms, the likes of which the Japananese Emperor and his people had not seen it’s like; Perry was able to conclude a treaty with Japan called the Convention of Kanagawa, which opened extra Japanese ports to foreign trade and paved the way for the establishment of a permanent American consul.These events paved the way for a cultural exchange between Japan and the West. It was also the beginning of the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate, the last of the Shuguns. They were once hereditary military governors in Japan and the de facto rulers of the country, though officially they were appointed by the emperor.

 

As Napoleon was welcomed, two attendants accompanying the Lady, opened a pair of sliding doors, revealing a tokonoma...an alcove used for displayin decorative items. In this case it was the location of a silk portrait of a Japanese woman dressed in a red kimono that hung on the wall.  It was a portrait of Katsumi, the wife of the Shogun, Tokugawa Yoshinobu who ruled the clan in the late 1800’s.

The Lady Michiko, the direct descendant of Tokugawa Yoshinobu and his wife, was a dead ringer for Katsumi.  
  
Napoleon couldn’t help but admire her classic beauty but his view of Katsumi was brief as he was ushered to the main room, used for entertaining guests. The way her attendants saw to him, moving with a graceful deliberateness was a treat in and of itself for Solo as an admirer of the female form.

 After being offered a dark kimono with intricate white embroidery, Solo was served tea, seated on a zabuton... a low chair at a table also low to the floor. There was little conversation, as the drinking of tea was a formality that had be be observed.  Lady Michiko performed the ritual herself; it was a tradition based on Taoism, with influence from Zen Buddhism  as well. Powdered green tea, is prepared by a skilled practitioner and served to their guests in a tranquil setting. There was no conversation as it was all about the ritual of serving and drinking the tea.

Once the ceremony had been completed, the Lady bid Solo good evening, disappearing into her private quarters.

“My name is Shinju,”one of the attendants introduced herself with a bow. “If you will follow me, I will show you to your room.”

Dressed more simply than her mistress in a tan and white kimono; Napoleon smiled as he followed behind her, watching the way she walked. It was as if she were gliding across the floor.

Everything was traditional throughout the house, with doors that were merely screens, slid open by his attendant separating each room. Shinju pointed out the bathroom to him, that thankfully, had modern plumbing.

Taking a cue from his Russian partner's usually placid demeanor, he gave no reaction other than his thanks accompanied by a courteous bow. “Arigatō, Miss Shinju," and watched with an unperceptible sigh as she left, letting her close the doors behind her.

The first thing Napoleon did was scan the room, looking for anything untoward;  taking note his suit jacket had been carefully hung on the one modern addition to his room, a valet stand.

His suitcase was set in the corner, and had not been tampered with in anyway. He’d strategically placed a miniscule piece of paper beneath the latch and was still there, undisturbed.

Opening his valise, he took out his grey silk pajamas, laying them aside.

Lastly Napoleon drew his communicator from his shirt pocket as he loosened his tie and shirt buttons.

“Open Channel F.”

“So how did it go?” Illya Kuryakin answered.

“Just great. The Lady Michiko goes for the real deal, traditional bedding to say the least.” Napoleon eyed the mat on the floor..

“Ah Washitsu.”

“If you mean a futon on the floor?”

“Washitsu means Japanese style, tatami mats, shoji screens, _futsama._..that is no hinged doors.”

“You know I don’t know why you weren’t sent in here instead of me? You at least speak the language whereas I only know a few words...and ones not so appropriate for the Lady of the house.”

“Ah yes, G.I. pillow talk.”

“Well I was on leave here a few times when I was stationed in Korea, though I stayed in a Western style hotel and only visited a geisha house for…”

“What you visited were not true geisha, I suspect.”

“You know chum, let's discuss the finer points of real geisha another time. In the mean time, how’s your end of the assignment going?”

“Everything is going according to plan, though my rear end is telling me otherwise. Now get a good night’s sleep as we will have an early start in the morning. The car is arriving precisely at 7 a.m. You know the Japanese and their penchant for punctuality.”

“Yes I know, and where exactly are you, may I ask?”

“For the moment I am right outside entrance to the compound, sitting in a rather large tree and looking at you with a pair of binoculars.”

“Voyeurism... I didn’t think you were into that?”

“Good night Napoleon.”

Solo chuckled; nothing seemed to faze the Russian at times. “Good night chum.Out.”

 

He washed up and changed into his pajamas, hanging his trousers with his suit jacket before lowering himself to his so-called bed. He’d had less comfortable accommodations courtesy of THRUSH, so this really wasn’t that bad, then again he didn’t envy his partner having to sit in a tree all night long either.

Napoleon planned to go over there route to the airport and double check their time table. He laid the necessary materials beside himself as he tried to settle in to do his reading.

Wiggling and shifting position; he just couldn’t get himself comfortable. Napoleon climbed across the mat, choosing to sit cross legged, laying the paperwork in his lap.

After a few minutes he suddenly felt very drowsy, and could barely keep his eyes open. His head nodded and jerked as he fought to stay awake, but finally Napoleon lost the battle; he fell forward...out cold.

His communicator chirped almost immediately but Napoleon didn’t hear it at all.

Illya, watching the entire scene, had decided to make the call to keep his partner awake but when the American fell flat on his face, not answering; the Russian leapt down from the tree. He charged across the compound towards the front door.

Finding it open; he stepped in, walking quietly with his gun drawn.  Illya found several servants collapsed on the floor, and heading to Lady Michiko’s quarters, he found her passed out as well.

In the alcove next to ceremonial room there stood two figures clothed completely in black; they had the painting of Katsumi in their hands and were rolling it up to place in a protective tube.

“Stop! Teishi!  The Russian called out, aiming his Special at them. He saw one of them reach into his tunic, and throwingsomething; Illya was blinded by a flash as the room filled with smoke.

Kuryakin ducked but not in time to completely save himself.  He felt a sharp pain in his left bicep. It was a Ninja throwing star called a _shuriken,_ in Japanese it meant literally a 'sword hidden in user's hand.' It was a traditional concealed weapon that was used for throwing, or sometimes for stabbing or slashing.  
Illya counted himself extremely lucky the throwers aim was off, otherwise it could have killed him.

The red smoke filled his lungs, Illya dropped to his knees coughing and hacking. Minutes later when it cleared, the men were gone as was the portrait of Lady Katsumi.

Once steady on his feet, Illya carefully pulled the shuriken from his arm. Nearby was a silken scarf belonging to the Lady and though expensive; Kuryakin didn’t hesitate using it to bind his wound.

He headed through the house to locate Solo and just as he opened the sliding fusuma door to his partner's room; he found Napoleon just coming to; holding his head.

“What the hell just happened? My head is killing me,” Solo moaned.

“Napoleon, someone...men dressed as ninja I think, have taken the silk portrait.”

“The Lady Michiko?”

“Is unharmed as are the rest of the household as far as I could tell. Like you they were rendered unconscious, by some sort of gas no doubt."

“Mr. Waverly isn’t going to be happy about this,” Napoleon got to his feet, quickly dressing himself.

“You call him then,” Illya shoved a communicator into Solo’s hand as he quickly disappeared out the door with the excuse of going to check on the others.

“Gee thanks,” Napoleon mumbled.” Channel D-overseas relay. Mr. Waverly.”

“Mr. Solo it is three in the morning your time, so am I to presume there is a problem?”

He hesitated answering. “Well you see…”

Once Napoleon finished telling the Old Man what had happened, he bit his lower lip.

As predicted, Alexander Waverly was not happy. The tone of his voice as he lectured his senior agent made that obvious.

“You do realize that silk paintings from the Edo period have a certain intrinsic value but because that one was specifically from the last Shogunate of Japan, and had a documented pedigree, it was deemed nearly priceless because of it's history. Though it had been insured for millions of dollars, a value seemingly unheard of Mr. Solo. I want you and Mr. Kuryakin to find it, and do so quickly.  We need to prevent this from becoming an international incident. I will expect you to report to me on the hour. Out.  
  
"Peachy," Napoleon mumbled as buried his face in his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

  


  
  


Once roused, Shinjiru brought supplies to see to Illya’s wound.

His shirt was removed and she cleaned, stitched and bandaged it with a delicate touch; bringing a sturdy piece of cloth for him to use as a temporary sling.

“It is not deep Kuryakin-san and should heal well if I have done my job correctly,”the girl spoke in English.

“I am afraid I ruined one of your lady’s silk scarfs,” Illya held it up with his right hand.

“Blood is difficult to remove, especially from silk, but I will endeavor to do so,” she shyly smiled. She assisted him to put on a short kimono as well as slipping his arm into the sling.

_"_ I will return with your shirt and jacket once I have cleaned and repaired them.”

“Anata wa anata no Shinjirō-san ni kansha, mottomo shinsetsude yasashīdesu.,” You are most kind and gentle, thank you Shinjiro-san,” Illya bowed to her.

The girl blushed at his words, bowing herself, but said nothing more as she quickly left.

“Hmm I think she'd like to see more of you than just being shirtless,” Napoleon grinned.

“Do you not ever think about anything else?” Illya huffed.

“What do you think?”

“That I should not have even bothered asking you that question as it was a waste of my breath.” He removed the sling, opting to go without it.

Solo shook his head at his all too serious Russian partner.

After giving the Lady Michiko sufficient time for she and her other servants to recover, both Solo and Kuryakin met with her in the formal reception room where the tea ceremony had been performed.

She was attired in a more simple kimono, one that looked suitable for traveling. It was a deep grey color, her hair draped down below her back instead of being arranged in an ornate wareshinobu style. No silver combs and ornaments adorned her hair today and she wore little makeup.

Seeing her in the daylight caught Napoleon’s attention, as she was stunning, with perfect skin and eyes he could very easily get lost in...but not today.

Shinjiru appeared, entering the room in silence; she opened a set of sliding doors behind her mistress, letting in the sweet scent of the early morning air filled with a hint of cherry blossoms.

Illya was surprised at being able to smell the flowers; they truly had a very light cherry fragrance, but usually it was one you could only really smell if you literally stuck your nose into the flower and took a whiff.

Given the property surrounding the Tokugawa compound was filled with mature cherry trees it made sense their fragrance would fill the air. These were not the type that yielded fruit, but their stems did resemble those on cherries and even the blossoms could be eaten.

Gazing out at the garden behind the Lady Michiko, Illya found it serene, with scattered rocks and moss resembling little islands, surrounded by neatly combed sand, done is such a way that it appeared as flowing water with the perimeter lined by dwarf trees and shrubbery.

In the center of the garden was a larger island and from it was growing a stand of bamboo.  
  


Shinjiru stood close to the doors, trying to remain as invisible as possible while Michiko spoke to the agents. Illya noticed just a hint of nervousness in the girl, and wondered what might be causing it.

She was fully recovered from the knock-out gas with no discernible after effects, unlike Solo who still had a headache...though perhaps Shinjiru did and said nothing about it.

The girl kept glancing over at the Russian.

Perhaps Napoleon was right about her liking him,” Illya thought,” but now was not the time to think of such things.”He drew his attention back to the Lady of the house.

“I am sorry gentlemen but I remember nothing, as do my servants,” Michiko gestured to her attendants, who nodded in agreement.

Illya listened carefully as he finally stepped just outside to a narrow raised walkway, there he inspected the neatly manicured Zen style garden. It appeared to be a central courtyard within the house; typical of the well-to-do to have such a luxury,” he thought.

 

Most of the neighborhoods in the Japanese cities were houses piled one upon the other with little space for such a garden. Then again Tokugawa family was prestigious, and this was most likely not their only home.

“Lady Michiko,” Napoleon spoke. “Why would someone want to steal the portrait, and now of all times?”

“Mr. Solo, I have no idea... unless whoever took it might wish to hold it for ransom? We have no enemies that I am aware of. My family is no longer one who wields power in this country, but because of our history we are shown respect and honor, nothing more than that. Though we are well off, we are far from wealthy, by any means.”

“What about the Yakuza?” He asked.

Michiko’s face paled at the mention of that name.

”Though as an organization the Bōryokudan...what you call organized crime known as Yakuza, can trace their origins to the Edo period, when the Tokugawa clan was in power; I would doubt their involvement in the theft of the portrait of Katsumi.  Theirs is a world of drugs and gambling, not the theft of an historical artwork.”

“One never knows Lady Michiko,” Napoleon said.

The doors from the corridor abruptly opened and in walked a shaggy-haired young man, dressed in black pants and a black turtle neck.

“Hey was’ goin’ on sis. It’s like sunrise, you’re never up this early.” He looked at Solo and Kuryakin.

“And who are these dudes?”

Michiko’s demeanor changed completely, and she scowled at the boy.

“Tetsuya, I see you are just returning home. Another night of drinking saki and gambling?” She hissed at him. opening her red hand fan with a quick snap of the wrist, fanning herself for a second to cool her anger.

“Gentlemen. Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin this is my brother Tetsuya. Please forgive his abrupt and rude entrance as well as appearance.” Michiko turned her attention from the agents.

“Shinjiro, show my brother to his room please that he might dress himself properly. We must go see Mr. Shimada, Tetsuya.”

“Tha’s right sis’ just push me around as usual. You need to shed that kimono of yours and get out in the real world an’ stop bein’ part of the past. You need to live! Go listen to some rock and roll! And I’m going to bed so you can do what you gotta’ do without me.” It was obvious Tetsuya was a little drunk.

“Enough!” Michiko clapped her hands, dismissing him.

Once he and Shinjiru left she spoke again.

“Gentlemen, if you will excuse my brother’s behavior, he is too enamored of the West I am afraid.  I beg your pardon, but I must leave now,” Michiko gracefully bowed, ”I have a meeting with my financial advisor. Feel free to remain here, however, I suggest you try to find my missing portrait before it becomes public knowledge. I am sure U.N.C.L.E. wishes to avoid an international scandal.”

The lady and her attendants disappeared through another set of screen doors, leaving the agents alone.

“Napoleon, there is something odd going on here,” Illya said

“What do you mean?”

The Russian directed him to the garden.”I presumed the thieves were ninjas after seeing their attire and being wounded by a shuriken, a weapon for which they are well known.” He absentmindedly touched his hand to his left shoulder.

“And now?”

“I think they were imposters. Someone trained in those arts would probably not have missed killing me with the throwing star, and “he pointed down to the sunken garden,” they most assuredly would have not left those footprints in the sand.”

There were two distinctive set of footprints leading across the garden; their positioning a tell tale sign the people they belonged to were running. Illya also took note of the footprints being somewhat small for what he presumed were men.

“Japanese males, though shorter in stature on average would still have a wider footprint. These are quite narrow, petite even, and might belong to females.”

The agents stepped outside, walking along the perimeter of the garden and stopped on the opposite side, seeing sand on the floor boards. Opening the nearest door; they saw the black clothing folded neatly, laying on a table.

Napoleon picked it up, holding out in front of himself to take a better look. It appeared to be what a ninja might wear, though quite small, enough to fit a woman as Illya had surmised.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking tovarisch?”

“Inside job and they were women?” Kuryakin nodded.

On the wall, mounted within a black frame were a pair of katana swords, those used by the ancient samurai. Upon closer examination, they did not appear to be old and one of them needed cleaning. Illya took out a handkerchief and carefully ran it along the blade.  What stained the cloth appeared to be dried blood.

“Things are becoming curiouser and curiouser,”he said, looking at his partner.

“You’ve got that right tovarisch.” Napoleon rubbed his temples as his head was still pounding. He looked at his wristwatch, noting it was nearly time for another check-in with headquarters, though there was nothing concrete to report. Only suppositions at this point…

Another set of doors suddenly opened and Tetsuya stepped in, this time dressed in only a tee-shirt and a pair of briefs.

He cursed at the agents in Japanese, grabbing one of the katana swords from the wall. He swung it, slicing the clothing from Napoleon’s hands.

There was a flash and again the room filled with a thick white smoke. Solo and Kuryakin charged through it this time, but Tetsuya was gone.

“What did you say about things being curiouser?” Napoleon said; his eyes now tearing from the smoke.

Illya’s face was expressionless as he nodded to his partner; his cheeks wet as well from watering eyes.

They both became aware of the presence of someone standing behind them, and spun around; their guns still drawn.

“Oh!”Shinjiru was startled.”Kuryakin-san, I have your shirt and jacket for you…and here, cloths to wipe your eyes.

The agents were at a loss as to how the woman had just appeared without either of them noticing her entrance and how she knew to have cloths for their eyes.

  
“Even more curious,”Illya said aloud.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
  
Napoleon and Illya waited for the girl to leave them before discussing their suspicions, of which they were convinced of Tetsuya’s involvement and now perhaps Shinjiru as well.

“Given Tetsuya’s style of dress when we first met him, it would have worked well with a ninja’s hood and leggings, that and his reaction when he found you holding said ninja accutrements,” Illya pointed to what was left of it laying on the floor.

”His use of a smoke bomb, also a ninja trademark, and his not wanting us to see the clothing…I would say it is safe to assume he was one of the two people I confronted last night.”

“He’s of small enough stature as well,” Napoleon said,”as is our little lady friend, who seemed to recover from the knockout gas awfully fast...  
  
“With seemingly no discernable after effects,” Illya added,"and she seemed to know to have the towels for our eyes, didn't she?"

  
“Tell me about it,” Solo again rubbed his temples. “I think we have our second suspect, so let’s just go and question her.”

 

The agents searched the house but couldn’t find Shinjiru at all; convincing them further of her complicity with Tetsuya.

Napoleon finally pulled his communicator from his inside suit pocket, not really wanting to call headquarters. “Open Channel D-overseas relay.”

“You’re late Mr. Solo,” Waverly groused at his CEA.

“We were investigating a possible clue and have now come to the conclusion that Lady Michiko’s brother Tetsuya as well as one of their servants...a girl named Shinjiru, were in cahoots."

“It was most likely they who stole the portrait of Katsumi,” Illya added.” Miss Tokugawa herself brought up the possibility of ransom, so that, we suspect, is what will be happening.”

“A plausible scheme gentlemen. Keep me informed of any further developments. I remind you, we must maintain the loss of the Tokugawa heirloom hush-hush for as long as possible..”

“Yes sir, if you could transfer me to the Intelligence Section,” Napoleon asked. “ I’d like have them do a little digging into Miss Tokugawa's financial background.”

After doing so, Alexander Waverly put down the hand-held microphone on his console until a moment later another light flashed, telling him there was an incoming communication. He flicked the toggle switch with annoyance as there was some reports he wanted to get through.

“Yes?” He picked up the mic again, speaking into it.

“Sir I have the Japanese ambassador on the line sir, Mr. Saito.”

Waverly sighed; he’d have to do some fancy talking here, suspecting word had gotten out about the loss of the portrait of Katsumi Tokugawa.

“Hello Napoleon, ummm, I mean Mista Solo,” Carla Angelico in Intelligence practically purred at him. “When are we going’ out again?” Her voice was a bit nasal, and she spoke with a very distinctive Staten Island accent, but he could overlook that because of her 36-24-36 figure and very willing lips.

“Soon my dear; we’ll talk about it when I get back from Japan.”

“Ewww Japan? I just love Oriental things. Bring me back a souvenir?Maybe one of those geisha dolls?”

“Sure honey, in the mean time down to business. Can you look up the backgrounds on  Michiko Tokugawa and her brother Tetsuya Tokugawa...financial information if you could include that as well.

“Shew-ah,” she said. “Hang on a sec.”

He could hear the mainframe computer whirring in the background followed by a pause and the small ring of a bell signalling the data was ready.

Carla pulled the sheet from the printer, taking a second to look it over.

“Okay, Miss Tokugawa and her brother are the sole legitimate heirs to the family properties but they’re basically broke. The brother Tetsuya works at a factory during the week but is known for his drinking and carousing habits on weekends. Still he does seem to save up from his wages and it looks as though he’s supporting the household. Miss Tokugawa, in spite of her financial situation, is known for a lavish lifestyle as well as a lot of gentlemen friends. Hmmm maybe they’re her shugah daddies? That’s about it.”

“Thanks Carla, I’ll see you when you when I get back.”

“Don’t forget my geisha doll?” She snapped her gum.

“I won’t babe...Solo out.” He smiled, tucking away his communicator in is breast pocket.

“Interesting,” Illya said. “Did not Miss Tokugawa say she had a meeting with her financial advisor?”

“More like a sugar daddy as Carla said,” Napoleon quipped.

“Sugar daddy? I am unfamiliar with that term.”

“It’s basically a rich older man who lavishes gifts upon a younger woman in return for her company or sexual favors. So it’s a good guess that’s what Michiko is up to, one would think.”

“Perhaps it is the so-called sugar daddy who is benefiting from the Tokugawa name as it is prestigious. The Lady Michko does not strike me as the type who would prostitute herself.”

“Hey partner mine, people will do all sorts of things to save face as well as maintain their lifestyle. Now the theft of the portrait of Katsumi, that’s the mystery that needs solving and fast.”

“Perhaps it is Michiko and Tetsuya who are behind it, with the help of Shinjiru. Michiko suggested herself the possibility of the portrait being held for ransom.”

“Yes but there’s no money for the family to pay it out even if...wait, perhaps she’s going to sell it and roll that money over for it over to appear as though it’s the ransom money?” Napoleon scratched his head, realizing how convoluted that sounded.

“Better still,”Illya said,”How much is the Katsumi portrait insured for? What if she sells it, fakes paying the ransom, though never gets her property back and must therefore put in a claim to the insuror. She would stand to gain a substantial sum of money...more than enough to support her lavish, though traditional, tastes.”

“Bingo partner mine,” Napoleon smiled.

Less than a half-hour later the Lady Michiko and her entourage returned, including the mysterious Shinjiru, but Tetsuya was still no where to be found.

“Gentlemen,” Michiko bowed solemnly.” So have you discovered answers as to who took my family’s heirloom?”

“No not exactly,” Napoleon lied. It wasn’t the time to make accusations and this little charade needed to be played out a little longer.

The Lady snapped her fan, perhaps feigning her impatience, when the screen doors opened and a woman, identical in appearance to Shinjiru, entered.

“Oh I see by your surprise you did not know that Shinjiru has a sister. This is Ayame, they are in truth my half-sisters.  My father never married their mother so they are illegitimate, but out of the goodness of my heart, I have permitted them to be my ladies in waiting.”

“Another pair with potential motive for the theft,” Solo thought to himself; casting a glance to Illya who was most likely thinking the same thing. This was beginning to get even more complicated than it was already.

“My Lady, this note just arrived for you,” Ayame offered the folded piece of paper laying on a small silver tray.

As it was read, Michiko gasped, handing the paper over to Napoleon. Not reading Japanese he in turn handed the note to the Russian who translated it, reading it aloud.

“Bring $32,420,000. yen to Tokashiki Island. You have 24 hours or the portrait of Katsumi will be burned and the life of Tetsuya Tokugawa will be forfeited as we now have him. Upon arrival to the island you will be given further instructions.”

“It is signed with the symbol for the Yakuza.” やくざ”

Illya did the math in his head. “Napoleon that is two million dollars, American.”

Solo gave a whistle at that amount, rolling his eyes, all the while thinking that was the same amount for which the portrait had been insured.  It seemed as though their theories were correct.

“Tokashiki Island? I’m not familiar with that...where is it?” Solo asked.

“It is part of the Kerama Islands group in Shmajiri District, Okinawa Prefecture,” the Lady replied.

 

“It includes ten islands if I recall,” Illya added.”Tokashiki and Maejima are the only ones inhabited. Tokashiki is rather rugged and is about thirty kilometers west of Naha...the capital of Okinawa. It would take about an hour to reach it by boat from there.

“You seem rather knowledgeable regarding it Mr. Kuryakin,” Michiko said.

“I have an eidetic memory and remember most of what I read,” he nodded to her, while glancing at his partner.

“Well I will no longer have need of your services gentlemen,” she suddenly announced.”Since neither of you were able to prevent the theft and have really done nothing to find out who did it; I relieve UNCLE of its responsibility.”

Lady Tokugawa bowed, “My car is at your disposal to take you wherever you need to go. I will be leaving for Tokashiki Island tomorrow morning and I expect neither of you to be here. _Sayonara_.”  She turned, her servants following her as she abruptly left the agents, who for the sake of the game, looked a bit dumb founded.

 

“No surprise there,” Napoleon spoke softly to his partner. "I think her brother isn't actually a hostage and it's just the cover for him being MIA. He most likely told her of his little altercation with us."

“Agreed. She obviously does not want us around to expose her little scheme. I have my doubts the Yakuza are involved as well; using their name is just a ploy, though a dangerous one.”

Solo nodded,”If they were to get drift of her using them in her scheme, it might not bode well for the Tokugowa family, prestigious name or not.”

“So we are off to the island I presume?"

“I guess we better make our travel arrangements fast, most likely by boat I’m afraid.” Napoleon spoke with sympathy in his voice; knowing his partner was prone to sea sickness. "Best we get there before the others so we can get the lay of the land."  
  
"But her going there is all for show, is it not?"  
  
"At this point, that's all we can presume, partner mine. There is a remote possiblity this ransom is for real, in which case Tetsuya's life is in danger, and the portrait is as well."


	4. Chapter 4

 

  
  


 

The trip to Tokashiki Island was a bit dicier than Solo and Kuryakin had first anticipated. The weather was getting rough and the captain of the boat they’d chartered warned them of an on coming storm.

There was a ferry available from Tomari Port in Naha, but it was a slow moving one, taking over seventy minutes to arrive...Napoleon and Illya couldn’t wait that long.

They had no choice as they needed to arrive before the Lady Michiko and possibly her other co-conspirators.

Illya was prone to seasickness, sometimes even the calmest of seas could churn his stomach and turn his face the most odd shade of green.

Though the choppy waters, and white caps had the boat swaying to and fro, Illya was surprisingly unaffected.  
  
This time it was Napoleon who suffered the ravages of being seasick. It was quite an embarrassment to Solo as he heaved over the side several times, given he was quite an experienced seaman. Yet even the most experienced seamen can suffer such a malady from time to time.

Napoleon sneered as Illya tried to hide his amusement. He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, feeling a little better, but not by much.

“What are you looking at?”

“You really are the most interesting shade of green,” the Russian quipped.

“Stow it Kuryakin,” Solo mumbled. In truth he was now in complete sympathy with what his partner had been suffering with all these years, and he counted himself lucky he had never been sick like this before.

The boat finally motored in, tying off at a small dock that jutted out to the water. Parts of it were beginning to be swamped by the waves.  Despite the rough sea, the waters nearest the island were a near magical blue color.

“I no can stay here. Very bad storm coming. You go to high ground on island, stay inside caves. I come back for you in two days time...if island still here,” Captain Fukushima laughed, trying to break the tension.

“Hi... Kyaputen wa i. Watashitachiha rikai shite imasu_ yes… yes Captain. We understand,”Illya bowed.

The wind was whipping up the palm trees on the island, as Fukushima pointed to the direction of the village with the same name as the island.

“You go that way. Village not far. Most people they go, move up to mountain after matsuri.”

“What’s that, a word for a storm?” Napoleon looked to his partner

“It is a festival held at the shrine of a deity,"Illya explained."  
  
"In Japan there are countless local festivals because almost every shrien celebrates one of its own. Most festivals are held annually and celebrate the shrine's deity or a seasonal or historical event. Some festivals are held over several days. There are usually processions in which the local shrine's Shinto deity is carried through the village in palanquins called _mikoshi._ It is the only time of the year when the _kami_ leaves the shrine to be carried around, on display for everyone to see."

“They’ll have it in spite of an oncoming storm?” Napoleon asked.

“I imagine they will, and everyone will most likely ascend to the mountain afterwards, or perhaps the procession will lead up there instead?.”

“Leaves the place conveniently empty if there is a real ransom exchage to take place, and I repeat...’if.’ I have my doubts. Still if it's going to happen, there’ll  be no witnesses. How many people did you say live here tovarisch?

“I did not. The population has not fully recovered since the war. In 1945 nearly four hundred inhabitants, mostly from farmer families, immolated themselves with grenades after the landing of US troops. So there is at best a few hundred people here if that, from what I could gather.”

Napoleon cringed at that sort of violence. “The Japanese do like to commit suicide thing don’t they tovarisch,” Though he had been served in the army in Korea and had seen all sorts of death, but the idea of a civilians killing themselves was horrendous.

“It is said the retreating Japanese soldiers left hand grenades with the villagers and farmers while at the same time telling them stories about how American soldiers would slaughter the men, rape the women and eat the children. Pure rubbish of course, but never having seen the invading men before, the inhabitants had no idea they were being told lies.  They were not ordered to kill themselves, but having hand grenades available, plus the stories….well they put two and two together.”

“I recall reading about the thousands and thousands of civilians who killed themselves during the conflict on Okinawa,” Napoleon said.

“Yes their minds were filled with the same dread-laced stories no doubt.”

Napoleon and Illya helped cast off the lines to the boat in silence, waving to the captain.

“Arigatō Fukushima-san,” Illya bowed again as he thanked the captain; casting a wary glance at his partner.

Solo took a moment to pull out a pair of binoculars, scanning the waters of the Pacific.

As their boat pulled away, he spotted another heading in a little farther down shore. On its deck were the Lady Michiko, Shinjiru and Ayame, as well as several men with, though Napoleon didn't recognize any of them.

“We better move fast tovarisch. Company has arrived.”

They dashed along the dock, trying to keep from getting washed away as waves broke over it.

The skies were more foreboding now as the two agents made it to terra firma; heading in the direction to which the captain had pointed them.

“Napoleon I have a bad feeling about this. If this is a cyclone heading our way, then being on this small island may become quite dangerous.”

“Always worrying aren’t you chum; though it was a shame we didn’t listen to a weather report before we started this,” the American shrugged,”but it still wouldn't have really mattered, would it? We have a mission to see to its conclusion. Things will be fine, trust me.”

“Ever the optimist Napoleon.”

“And you’re ever the fatalist. We make a great pair don’t we,” Napoleon flashed a reassuring grin.

Illya let one of his rare half-smiles escape while nodding his agreement.

They hiked onwards, finally coming to the outskirts of Tokashiki village.  What looked like the square was filled with a sea of white Japanese parasols, remaining intact in spite of the growing winds as the festival goers prepared to honor the shrine of the local deity.

Everyone, perhaps a hundred or so, were dressed in traditional Japanese clothing, all white as were the decorations on the houses, consisting of strands of woven white flowers. A flock of doves had just been released, though they immediately retreated to the trees, seeking cover instead of flying off.

That, Illya supposed did not bode well as a sign to the villagers.

The air was filled with the sound of beating drums, as the as a man dressed more distinctly from the rest of the populace led the procession of the _mikoshi_ , upon which sat the carved statue of the deity being honored.

“He is most likely the village shaman,”Illya said. “Shamanism is part of mainstream life here, and more deeply ingrained in people’s lives. Most likely surviving in a simple and unrefined form; it reflects beliefs that were buried by centuries of Shinto and Buddhist dogma on the main Japanese islands.”

“Illya when do you have time to learn all this?”

“Remember, eidetic memory. If I  have read it, I recall it...and you know how I like to read,” Illya snickered.

“Yes, don’t remind me.”

The tranquility of the unfolding scene was disrupted by the wind as it suddenly gusted, accompanied what sounded  like thunder; sending the celebrants scattering like insects as they dove to get out indoors.

Parasols went flying in the air in every direction as the two Gaijin...one blond, the other dark-haired ran among them, guns in their hands.

That wasn’t thunder, but gun fire.

Following the sound; the agents rushed to a larger house located at the top of the path, where they heard more gunfire coming from inside.

They split up, with Illya heading round back, and Solo heading to the the front entrance. Before he could do so, the door burst open and out flew none other than Tetsuya Tokugawa.  He had a tube in one hand, large enough to house the rolled up portrait of Katsumi.

In his other hand was a Nambu semi-automatic pistol. It was the type used during the war and had an eight round magazine...of which, if Solo’s count had been correct; eight shots had already been fired.

“You have no bullets left, so why don’t you just give up and surrender the portrait,” Napoleon said, pointing his Special at the young man.

“Solo-san, you do not understand. I did not steal it. It was my sister and her lover.”

“If you think I’ll believe you, you’re sorely mistaken. Now get up Tetsuya, you and your sister’s attempt at fraud will be sending you to jail for a long time.”

“No Solo-san, you have it all wrong man!” Michiko and her lover…”

“And who might that lover be?” Napoleon asked, not really expecting a believable answer.

“That would be me.” A handsome dark-haired man stood in the doorway,  a black patch covering his right eye. He held a pistol aimed directly at the boy and not the American.

“So you are Napoleon Solo, please if you would be so kind as to drop your weapon and put your hands up or I will be forced to kill Tetsuya.  He is telling you the truth; he did not steal the portrait. His sister and I made the arrangements.”

Napoleon lowered himself before releasing his gun to the ground. As he stood, placing his hands with his fingers linked together atop his head.

“And Ayame and Shinjiru were your willing assistants I suppose?”

“No I am afraid, like Tetsuya here, they were too honorable. Honor is a thing of the past, in a Japan that is becoming modern...it is money and power that matters.”

“Isn’t the Lady Michiko a bit traditional to suit your taste then?”

“She has her uses. Do you think I am going to share the millions to be made from this portrait? I intend it to all to fund my scientific research. Now you Mr. Solo and Tetsuya, if you both will please accompany me inside.”

“Who are you?” Napoleon finally asked.

“I am Doctor Daisuke Serizawa.”

That name meant nothing to Napoleon now, and he had no idea that someday it would...

Once inside Solo and Tetsuya were bound and escorted to a small room, there joining Shinjiu and her sister whose hands were also tied behind their backs.

“I am sorry sisters, I failed,” Tetsuya whispered to them.

Minutes later Solo heard a ‘pssst,” coming from a nearby window. Up popped a familiar blond head, followed by the rest of Kuryakin as he climbed inside.

“I cannot take you anywhere can I Napoleon?” He whispered.

Illya quickly untied everyone, handing his backup pistol to Solo. They helped Tetsuya and his sisters climb out the window, instructing them to get away and find shelter from the storm.

Tetsuya wanted to stay and help but was refused.

“Take care of Ayame and Shinjiru,” Napoleon ordered him.

“It is your duty as the only male in the Tokugawa family line to do so,” Illya said.

That struck a chord with the boy and he nodded his acceptance. Together, he and his half sisters disappeared into the swaying foliage.

Napoleon opened the sliding door, as he and Illya stepped out into the corridor. They could hear muffled voices not far off.

Moving slowly towards the location, they paused outside the door; hearing the voice of Michiko pleading with Serizawa.

“You promised if I did this we would be married and rebuild my family home. We would live in luxury, and now you want all of the money for your ridiculous research?”

“I am on the verge of a making a great discovery and you dare call it ridiculous?  My research on the elements... their effects upon other objects and organisms is important. I have discovered a new element, a ‘micro-oxygen’ that can create a destructive chemical reaction capable of  liquefying molecules by separating their oxygen atoms.”

At first he was horrified at the destructive potential of his ‘Oxygen Destroyer’ but the doctor chose to continue researching it, confident the could take it beyond its raw form and develop it to potentially benefit society one day.

“I don’t care about your research Daisuke, I care about us. That is why I staged the theft. Selling the portrait as well as collecting the insurance money will give us a wonderful life,” Michko pleaded her case.

“You are a fool,” the doctor pushed her away from him, holding up the tube that contained the portrait of Katsumi.

“But Daisuke!”

He backhanded her across the face. “Take her and put her with the others,” he order the two men there with him.

“Daisuke please!” Michiko begged and began to scream as the men took hold of her.

Solo and Kuryakin burst through the flimsy door; Illya shooting the men with sleep darts.

Napoleon tackled Serizawa to the floor; the two men wrestling for control. Solo seemed to have the upper hand until the house began to shake.

The storm had arrived.

Horizontal rain came down in torrents and a powerful wind tore the roof from the house and it fell apart around them.

Serizawa pulled himself up from the rubble, dashing out into the storm.

Illya was the first to dig himself out, and while fighting the winds and rain, he clammered for the others, pulling off pieces debris where he thought the others were.

Michko was the first to be found but she was dead, impaled upon a bamboo spike.  Moments later he saw a hand...with a star sapphire the pinky finger reach upwards, in it was clasped the white cylinder protecting the portrait.

Illya pulled Napoleon up, and the two made a hasty retreat, heading up into the mountains; the winds and rain nearly knocking them to the ground several times.

There they found a small cave occupied by a number of the villagers who had set up camp.  They had a small fire going, cooking rice over it, others had cooked fish wrapped in leaves.  They offered the gaijin food and tea which was gladly accepted by the agents so as to not be rude.

There they all remained until the storm subsided.

Gathering in what was left of the village, family and friends were reunited.

Napoleon and Illya found Tetsuya, Ayame and Shinjiu who were none the worse for wear, though Dr. Serizawa was no where to be found.

They broke the news of Michiko’s death to the family, who in spite of their sister’s betrayal, mourned her loss.

Napoleon removed the portrait of Katsumi from the tube, and sadly the upper portion of the silk had gotten wet, making some of the dark pigments run like tears. He handed it over to Tetsuya.

“This is yours now,” Solo said.

“It is the source of all our troubles. Perhaps it is time for it to go?” The boy said.

“You are not going to destroy it?” Illya asked.

“No Kuryakin-san, but perhaps it should be sold to Japanese museum, I think. It is time for others to see it as it is a part of my country’s history. We...my sisters and me can use the money too.”

Napoleon smiled at the boy, acknowledging Ayame and Shinjiru as his sisters and not acting as though they were servants was a sign of maturity. Perhaps Tetsuya would stop being the rebellious young man, and honor his family name now the Michko was gone.”

They obtained dry clothing from some of the villagers, and were served green tea after assisting with some of the clean up. Illya sat to one side, talking with Shinjiu.

Napoleon pulled his communicator, contacting headquarters.

Channel D- overseas relay.”

“Mr. Solo, please tell me you have good news? I will forgive your lack of communication in the matter if it is indeed a positive outcome to this debacle.”

“Yes sir, it’s mostly good news.”  He filled in Waverly on the events of the day, Lady Tokugawa’s death as well as about Dr. Serizawa.

“We will look into his identity I assure you. For now you and Mr. Kuryakin may have off the next few days to recuperate.  If young Tokugawa is still going to put the portrait on display in New York, then it will indeed need an escort. Let me know and a job well done by the way, Mr. Solo. Waverly out.”

“Hear that partner mine. We have some time off…”

Napoleon looked to the man, smiling as he saw a twinkle in Illya’s blue eyes. Apparently Kuryakin was finally acting upon the attraction the now proven innocent Shinjiru was still showing him. The Russian, acting somewhat shy, was smiling just enough, speaking to the girl in hushed tones and making her actually blush.

Solo tried chatting with Ayame, but after his attempts to flirt with her failed, he resigned himself to striking out and he gave up. Napoleon simply enjoyed the girl's company and conversation.

One of the villagers put them all up for the night, with each of them quickly falling asleep as the storm, along with everything else, had sapped them of their energy.

.

The next day Captain Fukushima returned; the damage from the storm in the Okinawa having been minimal.

He brought the agents and the remaining Tokugawa siblings back to Naha where arrangements to retrieve the body of Michiko were made. From Naha they returned the next day to the family compound outside of Tokyo.

The ceremony for Michiko Tokugawa was kept simple. Attended by several Shinto priests along with family friends; her body was cremated.

Napoleon and Illya were invited to remain at the Tokugowa compound, and their luggage, still at their hotel room was sent for. After some discussion with Tetsuya as to the disposition of the portrait, they all retired for the evening.

Solo was not one to miss an opportunity decided to explore the hot spots in Tokyo, especially  after Tetsuya had given him some names.

He stood in his partner’s room, seeing Illya dressed only in a short kimono.

“So you won’t come with me tovarisch? It’s not often we get to relax on UNCLE’s dime.”

“No thank you my friend. I am going to take a hot bath, and enjoy myself here for the evening.”

“Tovarisch, sometimes you can be a real drip. Suit yourself chum.” Napoleon saluted, closing the doors behind him.

Illya shook his head at his partner's attempt at humor. He opened the next set of screens to the room where a steaming bath awaited him.

He let his robe drop and stepped down into the sunken wooden tub, reaching across to... Shinjiru was there waiting for him in the water.

“This is much better than a night out, “ he whispered to her, drawing her lips to his.

There was the sound of a giggle from behind them and a splash in the water as illya felt a pair of soft hands begin to massage and wash his back.

“Yes, this is much better Illya-san,” a naked Ayame whispered, planting a kiss on the back of his neck... 

 


End file.
